CHAPTER II.
A JOURNEY.
Great was the excitement in the doctor's house at Buchberg. July hadcome at last, and the long-looked-for journey was at hand. Only one moreday! The big trunk was packed and locked and placed in the lower hall,ready to go. Now there were only the hand-bags and satchels to be filledwith the last needful articles. This task was not so easy as one mightexpect, however. On the contrary, mother and aunty found it the mostdifficult part of the whole. For the three older children had receivedpermission to choose each the things which he wanted most to fill up hisown bag, with the express understanding that these must be _useful_things. But the three had their own definitions of "useful." So theyworked with all their might, running, breathless, up stairs and down,loaded with most extraordinary articles, most of which were rejected bythe packers as utterly unsuitable, and consigned to the places whencethey came.
Fred came first with four great boxes under each arm, which were tied upwith so many strings, that no accident could have opened them if theyhad gone all the way round the world. These he brought to his aunt,while Emma was, at the same time, pressing upon her mother a heavy roll,which she had brought under one arm, and an enormous package which shecould scarcely carry.
"Those can't go, Fred," said his aunt, decidedly. "I couldn't possiblyget those eight boxes into this bag, and what's the use? You certainlycan't need whatever there is in them."
"Yes, I do, aunty; six of them are full of living creatures which I mustcarry with me to take care of them, or they would all die. The other twohave in them specimens of beetles and snails and other things of thesame kinds as those I expect to find near the Rhine, but, of course,they are somewhat different, and I want to carry these to compare withthose, don't you see, aunty? Perhaps if we squeeze the boxes with allour might we can get them in, except those that have the livecreatures."
"No, Fred, it can't be done," said his aunt, kindly. "Take them backinto your room; and you needn't be in the least anxious. I'll take careof the live ones while you are gone, and, as to the others, when youwant to compare any of them with what you find, write to me about it,and I will send you as good a description as I can make."
Meantime, Mrs. Stein had been gazing in despair at the two huge,misshapen packages which Emma had placed upon the table to be put intoher hand-bag.
"What have you in that big roll? It is too large to go even into thetrunk! What are you thinking about?" she cried.
"Oh, mamma, can't they be tied on the outside of the bag? I could carrythem all together myself. I do want to take them with me so much. In theroll are ever so many drawing-copies, such as we had at school, and somethat were given us on the Christmas-tree. Fani spoke of them in one ofhis letters, and I'm sure he'll be delighted to have them. I put in allours, and I borrowed some from the master, who said I could have them ifI would take great care of them and bring them safely back again."
"What foolishness, Emma! You seem to forget that, for the last year,Fani has had his own drawing-teacher, who gives his pupils what hethinks best for them to copy, and, doubtless, has plenty of patterns ofall kinds. So take the roll away; it would be absurd to carry it. Andthat hideous bundle, what is in it? It is twice too big to go in here."
"I was afraid it would be," said Emma, rather crestfallen. "But Ithought I could carry it in my lap, and, really, I must take it, mamma.It is that book which I chose for a Christmas present, you know; the'Lives of Distinguished Painters.' I want to carry it for Fani to read;and, for fear of hurting the handsome binding, I wrapped it up in twopetticoats and a waterproof cloak and a small table-cloth, and then Iput some enamel-cloth outside the whole."
"You do get hold of most unfortunate ideas, my child! we shall neverget ready at this rate. Come, we'll take the book out of all thesewrappings, and then perhaps we can get it in. But you haven't broughtanything that you really need, though you have had such a long time tothink about it all. And here aunty and I are standing waiting and can'tget through, because you have nothing ready for us."
At this moment aunty exclaimed, in a tone of alarm:--
"For pity's sake, Oscar! what is that that you are tugging along?"
With a tremendous racket Oscar came into the room, dragging behind him adrum, which he could not carry, because in one hand he had a large bunchof bells and in the other a harmonica and a flute.
"Oscar dear, your own good-sense can tell you that you can't get a druminto this bag; to say nothing of the other instruments. What in theworld do you want with them? Mrs. Stanhope wouldn't thank you for suchmusic!"
"It isn't for the house, aunty," answered the boy. "It is for thefestival out-of-doors. I've taken only Fred's small drum, because mineis too large. See if it won't go in here!" and Oscar measured the drumagainst his travelling-bag, only to be compelled to acknowledge that itwas too large by half. The bells, too, had to be laid aside, though theboy complained that they were absolutely needed to call the gueststogether at the festival.
"Whose flute is that?" asked the aunt; "it is a beauty."
"It belongs to Feklitus. He is learning to play on it; and he was gladenough to lend it to me, because while it's gone he can't be made topractise!"
Mother and aunt agreed that the flute must not be packed without theconsent of Feklitus' parents.
Fred came now with an armful of articles of various kinds for his bag,and behind him appeared Kathri, saying:--
"Mrs. Bickel wants to see Mrs. Stein."
"This isn't a very good time to choose," said Mrs. Stein, with a sigh."I shall have to leave this all to you," she added, turning to hersister; "and, children, you really must make up your minds what isnecessary to take, and not bring all sorts of useless stuff, that onlyhas to be carried back again."
With these words Mrs. Stein went into the room where her guest wassitting. It was easy to see that Mrs. Bickel had something veryimportant on her mind. She had on her fine red and yellow shawl, and onher hat a bunch of large white feathers, higher and bushier than Mrs.Stein had ever seen in her life. The doctor's wife greeted her guestwith the fervent though unspoken hope that that lady would immediatelyunfold the object of her coming, so that the visit might speedily cometo a close, and she herself go back to her children's packing. Not so;Mrs. Bickel opened the conversation with a remark upon the weather,which she thought was growing worse and worse. Mrs. Stein agreed withher. Then followed "the cherries"; they had not ripened well thissummer. From "cherries" she came to "apples," a natural association ofideas. Mrs. Stein burned with impatience. Her mind would run on thetravelling-bags. Could aunty pack them alone? Would not the mostimportant things be left out, after all, and a great many useless onesput in? That reminded her of the flute, and she hastened to ask whetherFeklitus had his parents' permission to lend it. This gave Mrs. Bickelthe opening she had been wanting. She said that it was a good thing thatOscar wanted to take the flute; for her husband had decided to letFeklitus take the trip to the Rhine; and he could play on the flute toMrs. Stanhope; all the more, because none of the doctor's children weremusical.
She and Mr. Bickel thought, too, that it would be pleasant for their sonto be there with the others, and that it would show people that thedoctor's children had other and better acquaintances at home than thetwo poor children whom Mrs. Stanhope had taken with her.
But here Mrs. Stein interrupted the stream of words to say that therewas no occasion for that, as Mrs. Stanhope had seen for herself thatFani and Elsli were her children's most intimate friends. She theninquired whether Mrs. Bickel wished Feklitus to go with her children.
Mrs. Bickel declared that she should not think of such a thing as that.In that case Mrs. Stanhope would naturally ask him to stay at her house,which of course they would not allow; as if he could not afford to payfor his lodging! But she would be glad if Oscar would write as soon asconvenient and tell Feklitus the best way to go, and also find out thechief hotel in the neighborhood. Then, if Oscar would meet him on hisarrival, and show him the way to it, Feklitus would take
a room there,and spend the time between meals with the children at Mrs. Stanhope's.His father meant to go himself very soon to visit his young relatives,as it was only proper that he should do; and he would bring the boyhome.
Mrs. Stein listened patiently to this long discourse, but her thoughtsoften wandered away into the next room, to aunty and the bags. How werethey getting on all this time?
She promised Mrs. Bickel that Oscar would do what she asked, and nowshe hoped the visit was coming to a close. But there was more to ask.How many suits of clothes did she think needed for such a journey? Wouldsix new ones be enough? Wouldn't it be well to fill one trunk entirelywith new shirts, so that they needn't be washed away from home; hotellaundry work was so bad. Mrs. Stein only replied that she had not somany suits to give her children, and that Mrs. Bickel must decide suchquestions for herself.
It was growing dark before the visit came to an end, and Mrs. Steinhastened back into the other room. The packing was done, and aunty hadgone away with Oscar. The other children were complaining that theywanted her, and they didn't see why Oscar should keep her all tohimself.
Little Rikli had been watching all the preparations with the keenestinterest, and, as it turned out, with an unfortunate effect. For motherand aunty, having decided that the child was too young to go so far fromhome, had persuaded her, by the prospect of many delightful treats andexcursions with them, to make up her mind that she would far rather stayat home, than go on this long, uncertain journey without them. But alas!all this delightful stir of preparation had fascinated the child, andcompletely changed her views on the subject. She was seized with adesire to go too, and she suddenly burst into a loud scream, whichincreased every instant under Emma's scolding, and was only intensifiedby Fred's taunting song:--
"Hanseli is a cry-baby, Rikli is another; She's so exactly like him, He must be her brother."
In the midst of this hubbub, the mother entered, and at once interposedher tranquillizing influence. She lifted Rikli from the floor, where shesat in the midst of the luggage, and called the other two to sit quietlydown at her side. On this last evening, she said, she wanted to have alittle peaceful time with them; and Emma and Fred were very glad toconsult her about the various questions which lay on their minds, whichthey had meant to ask aunty about, when Oscar so unceremoniously usurpedher.
As Rikli listened to the conversation which followed, and learned howmany things her brother and sister were in doubt about,--as to theirbehavior in Mrs. Stanhope's house, and what they should say and dothere, and what they could not,--she made up her mind that it was farbetter for her to stay quietly at home with her mother and aunty; andthe prospect of walks and drives with them, and of the biggest share ofall the cherry and apple cakes, seemed more attractive than the verydoubtful circumstances in which the others would be placed. So Riklibecame quite reconciled to her lot, and was in good-humor again.
Oscar had meantime led his aunt into an unused bedroom on the groundfloor, and, having locked the door for farther security frominterruption, he announced that he had something very important toconsult her about. He had been all winter hunting for suitable mottoesfor his new banner, and had pressed so many friends into the service,that he had collected no fewer than thirty-five beautiful mottoes, anyone of which would have been perfectly satisfactory. From such wealth itseemed impossible to choose, yet some choice must be made. One bannerwould hold only one motto, and even Oscar, with all his enthusiasm,could scarcely hope to have thirty-five banners for the sake of usingthem all. Aunty must help him decide, and already before this lastafternoon they had had at least a dozen consultations on the subject, inwhich they had gradually succeeded in reducing the number of candidatesto three. And now the final selection must be made, and Oscar and hisaunt could not agree upon it. His aunt wanted him to make his ownchoice, but he was not willing to decide against her opinion; yet hecould not give up his own; he hoped by farther argument to bring herover to his side.
"Now, aunty," he said, when the door was safely locked, "we must settlethis about the motto. I will repeat them all three over again, and youreally must choose. First I'll say the one you like best:--
"'Drums beat and banners fly Our Festival to grace; Long live all men, we cry; But guests we forward place.'
"Now that's a good motto, aunty, but you see I can't pack the drum, andso it won't suit very well to say 'drums beat,'--will it?"
"There must be plenty of drums there, and perhaps Fani has one," saidhis aunt. "And I'm sure the motto is a very good one. However, let mehear the second. I've forgotten just how it goes."
"'Come to our Festival! come all! Come from Switzerland! Conductor, let your tickets fall! And, fireman, stay your hand! You who make boots, or who brew beer, You one and all are welcome here.'
"Don't you think that is, after all, better than the other, aunty?"
"Yes, it is certainly very good, but it is too long. It would takeElsli such a time to embroider it."
"That settles it, then," said Oscar, well pleased that his aunt found adecisive reason for rejecting another. "Now, then, for the last, shortand energetic:--
"'Freedom we shout! Freedom for all! Freedom for ever and aye! We will not yield till all chains fall, And tyrants are banished or die!'
"Do you hear that, aunty?"
"Yes, my dear, I can't help hearing it, and it's very spirited, but itdoesn't mean anything. I don't know of any 'tyrants' that need to bebanished or die, do you? It isn't to be thought of. Take the first, or,if you don't like that, choose another from the list."
But Oscar was obstinate. The first he wouldn't have, and he must somehowor other bring his aunt over to accept this one.
"But, aunty," he began in a tone of remonstrance, "there were tyrantsonce; don't you remember the poem about Dionysius, the tyrant? And ifthere have been once, there may be again, and then this verse would besplendid; don't you think so?"
Before aunty could respond to this appeal, came a fearful pounding atthe door, which put a stop to the discussion. Fred and Emma, havinghunted over the rest of the house in vain, had at last bethoughtthemselves of this apartment; and, finding the door locked, they feltsure that the objects of their search were within.
Emma called through the keyhole:--
"Come, aunty, please, quick! Supper is ready, and papa has come, andmamma sent us to call you."
And Fred shouted in a still louder tone:--
"Come along, Oscar; papa is asking for you."
All was over. His aunt opened the door at once, and Oscar had to followher.
The next morning, when the carriage had been rolled out of thecoach-house and stood waiting for the horses, to which the groom wasgiving the last polish in the stable, Dr. Stein came into the room wherethe mother and aunt were putting the final touches to the preparation ofthe children for the journey.
"I must say good-bye now. My patients cannot be kept waiting, and I mustgo. One word to you, Oscar. Be careful not to carry your schemes too farwhile you are visiting. Here, at home, every one knows you; and, if youdo a foolish thing, they say: 'It's the doctor's boy; he'll soon be setright.' But now you will have only yourself to depend upon; so don't gointo anything heedlessly. Don't undertake anything which you are notquite sure about, so that no unpleasant consequences may result eitherfor yourself or for the lady whose guest you are to be. You mustremember that you will displease Mrs. Stanhope if you do a wrong orfoolish thing. You are old enough to understand me without fartherexplanation. Do not forget. Now good-bye, my boy, and you too, Emma;good-bye, Fred. Be happy and be good."
With these words the father shook all three pairs of outstretched handsand was off.
The mother drew Emma to the other side of the room for a word ofadmonition. The big roll of paper and the book that the little girl hadbeen so anxious to have at Christmas, and was now so determined to takewith her, roused anxious thoughts in the mother's mind, and she feltthat she must speak seriously
to the child, warning her not to instigateFani to any undertaking which Mrs. Stanhope might not approve. Shereminded Emma that Fani was now very well off, and that the prospectbefore him was very bright, if Mrs. Stanhope should decide to take himunder her protection. But it was of the greatest importance that heshould do nothing to displease Mrs. Stanhope, and Emma would certainlynever forgive herself if she should be the means of leading him to actcontrary to his benefactress' wishes.
Emma understood the value of her mother's suggestion and promised toheed her advice, adding earnestly that she would try to think ofdifferent ways in which Fani could make himself agreeable to Mrs.Stanhope.
"You'd far better not think about it at all, my child," replied hermother. "Enjoy with Fani the pleasures and advantages of his life, anddon't try to bring about any special event, as you are so fond of doing.And one thing more: don't forget to pray every day to God to protect youand to help you to carry out all your good resolutions. Now that you areleaving home, my only comfort is that our Father's hand is still aboutyou, there as well as here. Promise me that you will pray for theheavenly blessing every night, as we do together at home."
Emma promised not to neglect her morning and evening prayers, and beggedher mother to have no anxiety about her.
Meanwhile, aunty had been standing by the window, talking with Fred.
"Pray be careful," she said, "never by any chance to let one of yoursmall creatures, even the prettiest one, escape out of your pockets uponthe table or the floor. In fact, you would do better not to put theminto your pockets at all, for fear of some such mishap, as often occursat home. It would spoil all the pleasure of your visit; for Mrs.Stanhope would neither understand nor forgive such carelessness."
"Don't worry, aunty," replied the boy; "I'll fix them so they can'tstir. I'll bring them all safe home to you, and I'm sure you will bedelighted with them."
Rikli had been meanwhile listening to one person and another, catchingthe words of warning and advice as they were given to the threetravellers, and dwelling with pride and pleasure at the thought that shewas the only one who did not need any caution.
To her aunt's closing words to Fred, she added quickly:--
"Yes, yes! how Mrs. Stanhope would stare to see a horrid frog or a redsnail or a blind worm come hopping over her white table-cloth!"
"Well, I think any one would stare, to see a snail or a worm hopanywhere!" said the boy laughing.
"You'd see what she would say, and how she would put you out of thehouse in no time, and take all your food away."
"I don't believe I should _see_ her say anything at all," retorted Fred,with another laugh.
"You'd find out how it would be, when you were sent home in disgrace;and you'd be ashamed to be seen in the railway carriage, and by thechildren in school."
"I don't mean to find out anything of the kind," said Fred, and thecontest dropped.
The coachman cracked his whip as a signal that it was high time tostart. Hurried good-byes were said; the children seized their bags, andseated themselves in the carriage; the horses started, and the journeywas begun. Mother and aunt stood by the road-side, and waved theirhandkerchiefs till the carriage turned a corner and was lost to view.
"Oh! I wish I knew that they would meet with no accident, and would allcome home safe!" said the mother, with a sigh, as she turned back to thehouse.
"That will be as God wills," said her sister; "we must trust them tohim, and pray him to send his angels to watch over them; that will be abetter protection than any that we two could afford them."